Fix You
by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: "I don't want anyone to know I'm here. I hurt Steve. I just want to see if he's okay." In the pieces of his memory, Bucky had pulled out Steve's name. He remembered two young boys playing together in an alley, one of them helping the other up from the ground. He only wanted to see Steve. Tony and Bruce certainly didn't expect to see Bucky on the communal of the tower late at night.
**I'm sure many of you have seen the tumblr post/headcannon thing that reads "tony or clint of someone walking in on bucky lying on the couch with steve fast asleep on top of him and bucky makes the slowest, silent, most intense throat-cutting gesture at the intruder while giving them a glare that very clearly says _wake steve up and they will never find your body_. Bonus points if this is how the avengers meet the winter soldier." **

**No idea who posted this, but that's what this story is based off of. I used this prompt and added more background/dialogue. Sorry about OOCness on Bucky's part, I tried to not make it too dark. Anyways, hope that you all enjoy and feel free to drop a review :) This is a oneshot right now, but I may add on another chapter later.**

 **Timeline: A few months after CA:TWS, but before A:AOU Disclaimer: Still don't own the Avengers; cover photo credit goes to DreamEscape1675**

* * *

Finding the tower was easy enough. It was a giant skyscraper in the middle of New York City, and even by skyscraper standards it was huge. The outside was mainly glass with a giant 'A' that adorned the front of the tower. He would have expected nothing else from the son of Howard Stark. The bright lights of the tower stood out over the blackness of the sky surrounding it.

It was fairly simple to get to the entrance of the tower. He quickly vaulted over the security fence and ran up towards the building. As he reached to open the door, a voice stopped him.

"I am afraid that I can not allow you to enter. Mr. Stark has labeled you as a threat," the disembodied British voice told him. "While I am not authorized to use deadly force, I am authorized to notify authorities should you become hostile or pose a threat to anyone residing in the Tower."

Bucky dropped his head and sighed. He wanted to explain to the voice, security system, whatever _it_ was called, that he was not there to do any harm. In all honestly, he wasn't quite sure what he was there to do. It was nearly two in the morning, and somehow he had found himself at the entrance to the Avengers Tower. He knew what he was looking for, but he wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. "Let me in," he ordered quietly, tugging on the door handle. It remained locked.

"I am afraid that I can not do that. Please exit the premises."

"If I was here to pose a threat or harm any of them, why would I have used the _front door_?" Bucky asked. The voice remained silent. "Look, I'm…trying to figure some stuff out. I could really use a friend. Please."

The voice responded a few seconds later. "I will notify Mr. Stark and he will be the judge of this."

"No!" Bucky exclaimed. He lowered his voice before responding again. "I don't want anyone to know I'm here. I just want to see Steve." The name of his friend felt foreign in his mouth. Approximately four months ago he had pulled Steve out of the frigid river water, without knowing why. Without knowing his name, Bucky had saved the man that had been labeled as his biggest target. After months of being on the run and trying to find himself, he had enough pieces to form a shattered picture of what he used to be. "Please."

In the pieces of his fragmented memory, he had pulled out Steve's name. He had pulled out images of him at Steve's father's funeral. He recalled two boys playing together in an alley. He remembered watching Steve for hours on end, wondering if this would be the sickness to finally end him. "I hurt him. I just want to see if he's okay."

He remembered the brother he once had. The one he had fought and died beside. _He remembered_ was a term that he both loved and hated using. Memories meant rediscovering who he was, who he had been. But memories also meant revisiting the hell that he had lived in for so long. The torture, the killing, the orders, all of them had started to come back. The good and the bad, constantly warring inside his head. Him standing up for Steve, him almost killing Steve. Taking out "threats", eating ice cream with Steve in a simpler time. A good memory would come with an awful one, and vice versa.

Bucky waited for almost a minute before the voice responded. "Do you have any weapons on your person?"

He smirked. "I'm an ex-assassin, of course I do." A box presented itself in front of him, to which he scoffed at. Reluctantly, he piled in his various knives and guns. But he kept the one in his boot. He always kept a knife in his boot. The voice could probably tell, but it didn't say anything. The box slid back into its slot in the tower.

"If you should present a threat, no matter how minor, to any of the inhabitants, I will have authorities called. I am also authorized to use non-lethal but preventative and effective methods to prevent you from harming anyone. If you try anything, Mr. Barnes, I will know and I will stop you."

Bucky mock-saluted to the voice and responded, "acknowledged. Five minutes. Now let me in." He forced his voice to stay just below a growl. In a few seconds, the door clicked and he pulled it open. He spotted an elevator off to the side and got in. As he looked over the many buttons, the voice spoke again.

"Captain Rogers is on the communal floor, where I am sending you," it said as the elevator doors closed and it started to move upwards.

Bucky took a deep breath in and out. He had not seen Steve since the helicarrier, where he had beaten him half to death. Probably more than half, now that Bucky thought about it. It had been his job to protect Steve and he had hurt him… Bucky forced himself to think about something else. "Thank you…" he said quietly, not knowing the voice's name.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," the voice provided as the elevator came to a stop. "Your time starts now, Mr. Barnes. Cameras are following your every move."

He nodded and the elevator doors opened. He was met with a large floor. There was a kitchen, couches, and a large television. Several tables and a bar also filled up the space. Everything was glass or shiny metal. It all looked so new and pristine.

After looking around for what he counted to be twelve seconds, he spotted a body on the couch. Bucky walked up behind the piece of furniture silently, his boots not making a sound on the smooth hard floor. He peeked over the couch, his eyes immediately landing on Steve.

He was sitting up, slouched to the side. Steve was wearing a simple gray shirt and navy blue sweatpants. He looked ready to go out running. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Steve's still fingers held a pencil above a pad of paper. Bucky looked at the art and found himself staring at, well, himself. At who he had been.

Steve had drawn a picture of himself and Bucky, during the war. Both of them were smiling and had their arms thrown around each other. Much of Steve's uniform was covered by his leather jacket. Bucky's own outfit was a ragged shirt and pants. His eyes were a mix of happy and mischievous. So much different than the cold, calculating eyes he stared back at himself with in the mirror.

A memory surfaced in Bucky's head of Steve breaking him out of the HYDRA prison. The torture and experiments that plagued his mind, and then the immense relief and confusion when Steve had found him. There had been fire, and then lots of walking. And Steve had somehow gotten much bigger, but Bucky still had the intense urge to keep him safe. Steve's left arm wasn't completely drawn in yet, but the rest was sketched out.

"I was always jealous of your drawing skills, you punk," Bucky whispered, eyes scanning over the drawing. Steve stirred a little, but didn't wake. There were dark bags underneath his eyes and his entire form screamed 'exhaustion'. The way he seemed to uneasily melt into the couch broke Bucky's heart. If he still had one, he had no idea. But the image of his once brother, exhausted and defeated on the couch sent a spike of pain through him. Something was causing Steve unease, and he hadn't been there to help.

Bucky walked around to the side of the couch. He sat down gingerly beside Steve and took the pad of paper from his left hand. Bucky took the pencil next and set both on the coffee table. Steve didn't move. Bucky sat absolutely still next to him on the couch. He still had two minutes and seven seconds left.

Steve stirred and his head lolled back and forth. Goosebumps appeared on his arms as his face contorted in pain. While he didn't say anything, he mouthed words that Bucky couldn't quite make out. Words of anguish and pain, screams of terror and pleading. His breathing became more ragged as he struggled against his own subconscious. When the shaking started, Bucky began to get worried.

Then his head hit Bucky's shoulder and stayed there. Bucky froze, afraid to even breathe. After a few seconds, he leaned his own head against Steve's. It was a simple, inherent move, meant to keep Steve safe. Instantly Steve relaxed and his face returned to one of peace.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been here," Bucky whispered, scared to do any more than that. He stared at his hands. Or hand, really. The real one toyed with the metal one, which lay still and motionless in his lap. The metal was always so cold and harsh. While both powerful and unyielding, it lacked the humanity of his actual arm. It had taken so many lives. It had almost taken Steve's. Bucky pushed the thought out of his mind.

" 's okay," Steve muttered, still mostly asleep. Bucky barely heard the words being whispered. But they made him smirk. The motion was so foreign to him. He rarely smirked, or smiled for that matter. But thinking of Steve and what little memories of him he had, Bucky always managed to smile. "Only jerks are this late." Steve sighed, hands going slack as he fell back asleep. He moved his head to a more comfortable position on Bucky's shoulder and let it rest there.

"I believe it is my duty to inform you that Captain Rogers has not slept through the night since thirteen days after the Chitauri invasion. The longest he has gone without waking up has been two hours and seventeen minutes," JARVIS reported softly.

"Thanks. I'll be staying here for two hours and eighteen minutes then," Bucky whispered back, knowing that the program could hear him. If anything, Bucky thought that the JARVIS' silence afterwards was an acknowledgement that he was allowed to stay.

* * *

"I'm tellin ya, buddy, we need a new power source. It won't work unless we try something new," Tony fought back, stepping into the elevator.

Bruce followed suit, punching the button for the communal level. "But what else is there to try? We have tried literally everything and it still doesn't work," he countered.

Tony pointed his finger at Bruce. "Exactly, we have tried _literally_ everything. We haven't tried _everything_ everything yet."

Bruce put his head in his hands and sighed. "Why do I stay up and work with you on this?"

"Good company?" Tony asked, making Bruce chuckle.

"No, it's because everyone else is sleeping and someone needs to watch you to make sure that you don't burn down the lab. _Again_."

Tony waved his hands back and forth while shaking his head. "Some coffee and everything will be perfect. I intend to crack this problem tonight."

"Maybe you should try, I don't know, actual food," Bruce responded as the elevator doors opened.

"Boring. Only coffee gets the job done." Bruce stepped into the kitchen as Tony made his way to the television. A short, ten minute break and some coffee never hurt an inventor.

But when his gaze landed on the couch, Tony stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that Steve had been up here earlier, but not the other man. The scary one that sat half engulfed in the shadows. The one with the metal arm and piercing eyes.

"Tony, you want black coffee?" Bruce called from the kitchen.

Tony found himself unable to speak. The man on the couch was staring directly into his eyes, into his soul it seemed. His metal arm glistened in the faint kitchen light. In a smooth and slow motion, he brought a finger up to his lips, telling Tony to shush.

Such a simple gesture made Tony's skin crawl and his heart freeze. Steve was laying up against the man that had almost killed him. The man that had almost killed him looked like he was about to kill Tony.

"Tony?" Bruce asked, coming over to see why he hadn't responded. He saw the soldier and stopped immediately also. "Um."

The soldier looked at them both, down at Steve, and this time drew a slow finger across his throat with his flesh hand. Tony half expected to see blood when the soldier took his hand away. His gaze was hard and unmoving. _"If you wake him up, I will make sure that you never wake up,"_ his eyes seemed to say. Tony shifted his gaze to Steve, who was completely asleep on the soldier's shoulder.

Before he knew it, Bruce was turning him back to the elevator. "But, Steve, soldier, death!" Tony whispered harshly, fighting against Bruce.

Bruce nodded. "I know, I know. But if the soldier posed a threat, JARVIS would've told us. Or the soldier would've tried something. And Steve is sleeping. Who knows how long it's been since that happened. Let it slide, let him sleep. I have a feeling that the soldier will be gone before morning." He looked back towards the couch, where the soldier nodded, having overheard their seemingly quiet conversation.

Tony wiped a hand across his entire face in an annoyed gesture. "No way in hell am I letting a crazy, deranged, murderer, psychopath sleep on my couch with Steve." Tony looked at the soldier, whose eyes were hard again. He looked like he could kill Tony without even getting off the couch. Tony gulped. "If anything happens, I blame you, JARVIS," he muttered.

"As would be appropriate, Sir. I will notify you if anything changes."

Tony sighed and followed Bruce back into the elevator. "No coffee and an assassin is three floors above us. Great, just great."

"Tony, we live in a building with two master assassins. One of them makes breakfast."

"Does he look like he would make breakfast?" Tony asked, jabbing a finger in the air in the direction of the couch.

"Do you ever stop whining?" Bruce asked jokingly and pressed the button for the lab. Tony stole one more glance at the soldier, whose full attention was on Steve. The soldier's head was resting against Steve's, as if in an effort to keep him safe. He looked like he would protect Steve to the ends of the Earth and back. But there was also a guilt in the way he looked at Steve, a sense of failure and unfulfillment.

Perhaps both of those statements were true.

All Tony knew was that they returned to the lab and never got a warning from JARVIS. In the morning, Steve looked well rested for the first time in months. The bags under his eyes were slightly diminished and his complexion was less pale. The soldier was nowhere to be found. Steve talked about a weird dream he had about Bucky and coffee. All the while, there was a happy, hopeful glint in his eye.

"I'm calling Sam. I have a feeling that Bucky may still be in the city," Steve informed them as he pulled on a jacket and headed into the elevator. "I'll call you if I find anything."

"Today may be your lucky day," Bruce called out as the elevator doors closed.

Tony only smiled.


End file.
